ng my father's papers. I resolved, therefore, to
obey his instructions; and, observing all caution before the guests, to
take the first good opportunity I could find to procure from the landlady
directions how I was to obtain a meeting with this mysterious person.

My next business was to seek out Andrew Fairservice, whom I called
several times by name, without receiving any answer, surveying the stable
all round, at the same time, not without risk of setting the premises on
fire, had not the quantity of wet litter and mud so greatly
counterbalanced two or three bunches of straw and hay. At length my
repeated cries of "Andrew Fairservice! Andrew! fool!--ass! where are
you?" produced a doleful "Here," in a groaning tone, which might have
been that of the Brownie itself. Guided by this sound, I advanced to the
corner of a shed, where, ensconced in the angle of the wall, behind a
barrel full of the feathers of all the fowls which had died in the cause
of the public for a month past, I found the manful Andrew; and partly by
force, partly by command and exhortation, compelled him forth into the
open air. The first words he spoke were, "I am an honest lad, sir."

"Who the devil questions your honesty?" said I, "or what have we to do
with it at present? I desire you to come and attend us at supper."

"Yes," reiterated Andrew, without apparently understanding what I said to
him, "I am an honest lad, whatever the Bailie may say to the contrary. I
grant the warld and the warld's gear sits ower near my heart whiles, as
it does to mony a ane--But I am an honest lad; and, though I spak o'
leaving ye in the muir, yet God knows it was far frae my purpose, but
just like idle things folk says when they're driving a bargain, to get it
as far to their ain side as they can--And I like your honour weel for sae
young a lad, and I wadna part wi' ye lightly."

"What the deuce are you driving at now?" I replied. "Has not everything
been settled again and again to your satisfaction? And are you to talk of
leaving me every hour, without either rhyme or reason?"

"Ay,--but I was only making fashion before," replied Andrew; "but it's
come on me in sair earnest now--Lose or win, I daur gae nae farther wi'
your honour; and if ye'll tak my foolish advice, ye'll bide by a broken
tryste, rather than gang forward yoursell. I hae a sincere regard for ye,
and I'm sure ye'll be a credit to your friends if ye live to saw out your
wild aits, and get some m